Some mystery to me—I took a step
into the ditch, the mud and croaking frogs
reminded me of love. I orient
my self about her heart. Where is it at
if not among my breath? I don't know where
the Sun went, I open my mouth to take
her breast. Cows live and die, a storm becomes
a calm, a couple birds wander the sky
above. To figure which is her object
among so many is just difficult.
I couldn't read the books I'd found, she said
those ones were in the Spanish. I had smiled
with my whole body, muscles then disclosed
a model of beloved in a dove.
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